Chimneys

I wait in the arc
of the half-open
car door while you
smoke a cigarette.
Your foam cup
steams away
on the roof
like a prop
from a cop film
and I privately hope
you'll forget it's there
when you pull away.
The wind buffets
its side; each gust
makes a kissing
sound as the
bottom lip
leaves
the paint.
Seven chimneys
surround this
wasteland; thick,
steady cooling towers
and thin flaking pipes, all
smoke. I watch your outline
in silhouette as you become
the eighth stack, sucking
the fumes in greedily,
then releasing the
poison.

from Frayed published by Indigo Dreams

copyright Natalie Scott 2016

Thread 1

image by Kim McDermottroe https://www.facebook.com/GreenerLavelle/

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